Design of the catafalque for the exequies of the Marchesa di Villena in San Giacomo degli Spagnoli, Rome; from 'Libro De Catafalchi, Tabernacoli, con varij designi di Porte fenestre et altri ornamenti di Architettura' 1604

Editor: Here we have an engraving from 1604, "Design of the catafalque for the exequies of the Marchesa di Villena in San Giacomo degli Spagnoli, Rome," part of a book of such designs, created by an anonymous artist. It’s incredibly detailed, almost architectural in its precision, but evokes a somber, almost theatrical atmosphere. What details stand out to you? Curator: Well, right away, I’m drawn to how this single image tells an entire story, doesn’t it? Or rather, frames a very particular moment in a story, which is death – or perhaps more accurately, remembrance. Look at the layers – literally! – of ornamentation, each intended to elevate the Marchesa, even in death. The sheer number of candles speaks to status, of course, but also this yearning… this striving against the darkness of oblivion. I wonder, what *feeling* does all this intricate design work to conjure? Is it grief, is it awe, or perhaps… something else? Editor: It definitely has a performative element. All those candles, like stage lights, focusing our attention. But the skulls… that’s an interesting juxtaposition. Curator: Ah, those skulls are a fabulous touch. They offer the ultimate memento mori. A potent reminder in the midst of all this earthly grandeur, aren't they? The message being: "remember you must die". All that ornate structure suddenly becomes a vessel, carrying not just grief, but a confrontation with mortality itself. This work offers an architectural design that is equally a theatre of the soul. What do you take away from this piece, reflecting on it? Editor: It really makes you think about how different eras deal with death. The overt display, the layering of symbolism... it's a world away from modern sensibilities, really, yet points towards some timeless human truths about grief and memory. Curator: Beautifully put. I’ll never look at another pile of candles the same way again!